


delicates

by orphan_account



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Dry Orgasm, Edgeplay, Established Relationship, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Panties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 19:31:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12588988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The lavender thing stares Soonyoung in the face, its lace trim and silk paneling taunting him, covering both too much and too little.





	delicates

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMBER. FROM ORPHAN_ACCOUNT AS WELL AS A VERY GOOD AND TALENTED HELL ARTIST. WE BOTH LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!
> 
> to Not Amber (but also to amber): i'm sorry if this is a mess. i don't know what else to say. it's just... some smut...

There was this silky, lacy, purple thing—or lavender thing, rather—in Wonwoo’s underwear drawer the last time Soonyoung opened it. He’d just run out of clean boxers, so something had to be done, even if Wonwoo has complained about Soonyoung’s ass stretching out his underwear before. When he did raid the drawer, he wasn’t shocked to see lace in it, because Wonwoo’s already gathered a small collection of stockings from Soonyoung, but that specific piece of fabric was... unfamiliar. At the time, Soonyoung’s heart raced, like he’d seen something he shouldn’t have, and he’d immediately looked away before grabbing a pair of boxer briefs and shutting the drawer abruptly. Days come and go and Soonyoung begins to believe he imagined it, as he continues to put off washing his underwear and doesn’t catch a glimpse of the lavender thing for the next few days. It’s not even there on laundry day, when Soonyoung is folding and returning all their underwear.

And so, naturally, he panics.

Maybe “panic” isn’t the right word for it, but he is stressed to the point of searching for them—searching for something he, at this point, hardly believes he even saw in the first place. That damned lavender thing. If he really did see it, then there’s nowhere it could be besides on Wonwoo’s person, right? But, presently, Wonwoo is napping, all sprawled out on their bed in sweatpants and nothing else. Possibly nothing else. What’s under those sweatpants?

Soonyoung is a bit hasty with the last of their laundry, but takes the time to rearrange the parts of their room that he’d mussed up searching for that lavender thing. He’s quick to ease himself onto the bed and wrap his arms around Wonwoo’s waist, smiling slyly when he yawns and stretches into Soonyoung’s grasp. They end up facing each other, Soonyoung’s hands running up and down Wonwoo’s back, kissing lazily at his sleep-swollen face.

“Did you finish the laundry?” He asks upon opening his eyes. Soonyoung swallows.

“Yeah, of course.” He tucks his head into Wonwoo’s collarbone, nuzzling against it and pulling him closer. He has to remind himself of the sweatpants—what’s under the sweatpants, that is. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Mm,” Wonwoo doesn’t even flinch when Soonyoung’s hands drag lower, cupping his ass gently over his pants—it might be small, but it’s there. His ass is there and Soonyoung adores it. He would like to see it in a little less clothing, though. Maybe something lavender.

There are a few moments where Soonyoung just lets Wonwoo breathe deeply into his hair, burrowing closer to Soonyoung in a way that is nothing but affectionate. And though Soonyoung has no qualms, he’s still curious. He dips his thumbs slightly past the waistband of Wonwoo’s sweatpants and feels his breath hitch against the crown of his head. He tries not to grin against Wonwoo’s skin.

Those definitely aren’t boxers. Soonyoung feels lace.

“What’s this about?” He asks, voice dropped slightly both in pitch and volume. Wonwoo lets out a breath and grasps at Soonyoung’s forearm. He now has both of his hands in Wonwoo’s pants, tracing the details of Wonwoo’s underwear with the pads of his fingertips.

“It’s for later,” Wonwoo says with a breathy laugh, half-heartedly attempting to move Soonyoung’s hands from him. Not that he wants Soonyoung to stop—he just knows how Soonyoung will get if he teases him.

“Later can be right now, can’t it?” He nudges Wonwoo to lie on his back, knocking the comforter off of him and straddling his hips as soon as he moves. Wonwoo’s bare chest serves as a support when Soonyoung leans down to kiss him—softly, briefly, but with intention. Wonwoo giggles when Soonyoung sits up to take his own shirt off.

“That’s not how time works, Soonyoung,” he scolds, “you’re eager.”

“Yeah?” Soonyoung scoots down Wonwoo’s torso a bit. Again, the sweatpants. They need to come off. “We’ll see who’s eager”

Wonwoo lifts his hips obediently when Soonyoung tugs at his waistband—the action alone makes Soonyoung’s dick twitch in his boxers, not to mention…

The lavender thing stares Soonyoung in the face, its lace trim and silk paneling taunting him, covering both too much and too little. He’s dressed Wonwoo up before, in cute thigh-highs and satin robes, but panties never crossed his mind. If he had less self-control, he could probably come from the sight alone—Wonwoo isn’t even hard yet and the fabric hardly hides anything. Soonyoung gulps. Wonwoo grips Soonyoung’s thighs with purpose, shimmying his sweatpants a bit further down so he can spread his legs slightly. He’s so beautiful under Soonyoung, all soft skin and sparse body hair, setting sun casting shadows over the contours of his body.

“I think they’re a little small,” he admits in a soft voice. Soonyoung’s drooling.

“When’d you get these?” He’s out of his mind, wasting no time palming at Wonwoo’s crotch, digging the heel of his palm in a bit more when Wonwoo grinds into it.

“Last weekend, I think…” His eyes are already glazed over, jaw slackened, breathing labored.

“Why’d you save them for today?” Soonyoung quips. Now he’s taking Wonwoo’s pants completely off, curling up between his legs, mouthing lazily at Wonwoo’s quickly hardening cock. His fingers tap along the side seams, run along the lace.

“I—” Soonyoung licks at the front, hesitantly, groaning when a bead of precum leaves a wet spot towards the top, where his dick threatens to peek past the hem. It’s apparent that he doesn’t really need an answer—he strokes Wonwoo through the fabric until he’s hard and leaking against the skin of his stomach. It doesn’t take long. It took even less time for Soonyoung—he’s usually good about taking care of Wonwoo first, but he just has to palm himself with each movement his hips make under the panties, with each tiny whimper he lets out. Wonwoo knows him too well. Lavender is unreal on him.

“I saw these in your drawer the other day,” Soonyoung starts, sitting up to spread a bead of precum down Wonwoo’s cock. He doesn’t take the panties off, just moves them to the side. Who knew Wonwoo’s dick was so pretty with lace around it? Who knew Wonwoo could look better than he does completely naked? “And, since you made me wait, it’s only fair that you wait to come, right?”

Soonyoung’s hardly done anything yet and Wonwoo is whining when he leaves the bed to get lube—it’s even worse that Wonwoo knows what’s about to happen. Soonyoung likes to do this with his chest pressed up against Wonwoo’s back, so while Soonyoung’s up, Wonwoo situates himself so that he’s kneeling, back taut and exposed when Soonyoung returns. The dip that runs down the middle disappears into the back panel of his panties, and his asscheeks hang out a bit on either side. Soonyoung could bend him over and fuck him like this, but he won’t. He holds his breath, admires Wonwoo for a moment before approaching him.

It becomes apparent that Soonyoung has different plans. “I want you lying down this time,” he says, “want to see you.” Soonyoung’s hands don’t leave Wonwoo until he’s reclining comfortably against the headboard, legs spread just slightly. He leaves a few kisses at the corner of his mouth, down his chest, across his hipbones, before warming a generous amount of lube between his fingers and running it up and down his freed cock, sighing when Wonwoo bites at his lip and digs his heels into the sheets.

“Look at you. You’re gorgeous.” Soonyoung starts slow—agonizingly slow. He’s edged Wonwoo enough times that he’s built up a bit of a tolerance, but something about the circumstance has him close to the edge right off the bat. Soonyoung can tell by the way his eyebrows furrow that he’s fighting off his orgasm. He won’t say it, but Soonyoung really isn’t sure he has the patience for this—not when Wonwoo looks the way he does. He makes quick work of talking him off. “So desperate for me to touch you, too. What if I just leave you here? Tie you to the headboard? Get myself off at the end of the bed and only let you watch?” Wonwoo shudders, bucking up into Soonyoung’s hand, uttering his first “close” of the evening. Soonyoung’s hand waits at the base of Wonwoo’s cock while his breathing evens out. “God, I love when you get all shaky.”

The only sounds between Wonwoo’s utterances of “close” are his breathy whimpers and Soonyoung’s quiet groans, paired with the rhythmic but often pausing sound of Soonyoung’s lube-slicked hand around him. It feels like hours are passing. With each denied orgasm, Soonyoung gets cockier, and Wonwoo feels himself fall apart at every touch (or lack thereof) that lingers on the shaft of his dick. Wonwoo knows he has to ask nicely for Soonyoung to even consider finishing him off.

 “Can I come?” He visibly bites the inside of his cheek and squints at his own mistake. Soonyoung is glaring at him from between his legs, toying with the hem of his panties and batting his eyelashes. Wonwoo swallows before correcting himself. “Please, can I come?” Soonyoung’s grip loosens as punishment.

“You’re asking because you want to come, not because you need to.” Soonyoung rolls his slick palm over the head of Wonwoo’s cock a few times in quick succession, watching him writhe underneath his grasp, flushed from his chest to his ears. For once, he’s sweatier than Soonyoung is. “Ask again when you _need_ to come.” Soonyoung keeps a steady hand on Wonwoo’s thigh when he returns to stroking him, reveling in the way his chest heaves and tears begin to form at the corners of his eyes. He lost count of how many times Wonwoo’s said he’s close, of how many times he’s pulled his hands from Wonwoo as quickly as his reflexes allow. It gets so bad that Wonwoo whines and holds Soonyoung’s hands away from his dick when he feels it coming—a light breeze could push him over the edge, at this point.

“Please,” Wonwoo begs, finally, after composing himself somewhat. Soonyoung raises an eyebrow and tries to move his hand from Wonwoo’s grasp. In return, Wonwoo doesn’t budge. He’s not asking to come yet. What he _needs_ is for Soonyoung to realize how desperately he wants him. All of him. “Please, want you to fuck me, want to come with you inside me—”

“Say that again?” Wonwoo lets Soonyoung’s hands go, tentatively. Soonyoung keeps them away from his cock, opting to thumb over his hipbones instead. He can tell Wonwoo’s overwhelmed—he’s really crying now. Soonyoung leans down to kiss the inside of his thigh. “One more time, baby?”

Wonwoo corrects himself for the second time that night. “Need you to fuck me, Soonyoung. Need you—need you to—” He’s babbling even as Soonyoung is easing him onto his stomach, running his hands from his shoulders all the way down to his ass, cupping it lightly before lifting his hips so he can’t grind into the mattress. Soonyoung is a bit impatient when lubing him up. He’s close, too. They both need this.

He pushes the panties aside and eases in with little difficulty, groaning at the feeling, familiar and tight and warm. His head falls to the nape of Wonwoo’s neck, and he kisses it insistently, letting Wonwoo adjust for a moment before thrusting once, twice—

Wonwoo comes then, just from the friction of the lace against the tip of his cock, just from Soonyoung grazing his prostate. He lets out a long, demolished moan, collapsing entirely onto the mattress and shaking all over. Soonyoung stills again, allows him to ride it out, to finish ruining his new panties, possibly the sheets. Soonyoung is past making Wonwoo ask for permission. The image of the damned lavender thing has him ridiculously close to coming, too. He’s still trembling when he says, “Soonyoung, please keep going.”

He can’t say no to that. He tries to spare Wonwoo a bit by getting the deed done quickly, but even Soonyoung can tell that the overstimulation is too much, Wonwoo grabbing at whatever he can with as much force as he can, writhing and moaning to the point that he looks like he’s in pain.

“You’re so pretty, doing so well for me,” Soonyoung says, right into Wonwoo’s ear. He mumbles something completely incoherent, followed by a strained moan, muffled into a pillow. “Do you hear yourself? So dirty. You’re so beautiful like this, baby, so loud—” Soonyoung always talks too much before he comes. It’s usually more for him than for Wonwoo, but Wonwoo is responding so well, arching his back and grinding back onto Soonyoung’s cock.

Soonyoung comes with his body pressed as close to Wonwoo as possible, the lace and the silk sliding easily across his sweaty skin where Wonwoo’s own skin does not. If Soonyoung isn’t mistaken, Wonwoo comes a second time just after he finishes—it’s dry, as he’s in the midst of being excessively overstimulated, but he clenches around Soonyoung’s softening cock, shaking and groaning all the same. Soonyoung pulls out and lies beside Wonwoo, letting his breath catch up to him while he rubs soothing circles into Wonwoo’s back.

Soonyoung always laughs at some point after they finish—usually once the sweat and lube has dried and become sticky, as soon as he sees Wonwoo completely fucked out with his hair sticking up on all sides. This time is no different. He just feels a stronger urge to kiss at his cheeks, a stronger urge to throw an arm over his back and a leg over his waist. It takes Wonwoo a bit longer to recuperate than usual, but when he does, he’s immediately picking at his wedgie and squirming uncomfortably at the situation between him and the sheets.

“You know,” Wonwoo says, slipping his forefingers underneath a lone patch of come-free, lube-free lace, “I don’t think these can go in the wash.”

Soonyoung closes his eyes and pretends not to hear.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry again.


End file.
